


Glory and gore go hand and hand (that's why we're making headlines)

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Zero, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Mastermind (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Betrayal, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mastermind Maizono Sayaka, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, murder and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-22 04:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: Sayaka maizono was the death of all good things.(She would do anything for her dream.)





	Glory and gore go hand and hand (that's why we're making headlines)

She giggled as the world was engulfed in flames.

__  
  
Sayaka maizono was a sweet girl, once.

But things changed.

__

It started with her dad, with his job and his work and his _no, not now sayaka, I don't have time for you. Maybe later, after my job, when you're…older._

When her mom hanged herself on the ceiling, a note saying _I never wanted a child, I never loved you–_ a note telling of the hate she held deep inside for the man she was forced to marry, a man that pinned her down when she screamed stop, a man who trapped her, the man who was never there, and the mixed loathings directed at her daughter.

_Sayaka, there is no hope for people like us, only despair._

__

When she died he left completely, always at work, or drowning his sorrow in alcohol and prostitutes.

One day he tried to touch her.

She locked herself in her room, the flickering screen with pictures of idols and smiles as she clutched her knees.

__

She wants to be like those idols, smiling, standing, unbreakable, strong, without a care in the world.

She didn't want to break, she didn't know if she could pick up the pieces.

__

It repeated in her ears, like she was worthless if she doesn't do it, because who wants an idol that doesn't smile, smile, Even if you're in pain, _smile!_

No one wants someone who can't smile.

Who cares if you're in pain?

There was only despair for you anyways, sayaka.

__

The men in the industry are just like her dad. She hates it. She smiles. Anything for her dream, her toxic vile dream turned nightmare she just can't seem to let go of.

__

When she gets the letter to hope's peak it feels like lead in her hands

__

Makoto and kyouko are like the sun and moon. She is dirty, disgusting earth compared to them, held as a good thing, perfect, when in reality she was rotting away. Compared to the bright beams of makoto's smile, and the gentle light in kirigiri's eyes, she was filthy.

She had always been filthy.

__

When they kiss, it was like magic. She had fooled them to the point, oh so thoroughly, that they didn't notice a thing when they kissed her. They couldn't feel her pitch black soul, wiggling, and worming, and _crying_. They were fooled, thought she was a normal girl, instead of the fucked up mental case she felt she was.

Sometimes, when their arms wrapped around her, she was fooled too.

But she was more than a girl.

Sayaka Maizono was the death of all good things.

And sometimes, sometimes, she hated it.

__

It's when she meets junko, _really_ meets junko, the true junko, not whatever she wears in front of people, that she realizes something.

She can do whatever she wants.

It's a trivial thought, maybe, but it's a dangerous one. If she plans well enough, if she gets away with it, she can do… _anything_.

And she wouldn't even have to explain herself, explain this balled up hate inside her that even she doesn't understand, she could just.. do it. She wouldn't owe anyone anything.

It's in that moment the world is doomed.

__

The first thing she does is kill her dad.

He's drunk, again, didn't even realize she was back until he's inches away from a knife, and his eyes widen in fear. She doesn't hesitate to bring the blade down, the fear just makes her feel powerful, so she swings again and again and againandagainagain _again **again** —_until her arm cannot swing anymore, and even then she tries to keep going, years of anger surging forward as she finds she just _doesn't care anymore and—_

She's smiling.

It's the first real one in years.

__

She traces kyouko's collar bones, wondering what it would be like to take a knife to it, to make lines of red bloom, to press a blade to her throat and bite into her flesh, devour her, like the cannibal she is, taking all of her good points and bleeding them dry, as if that could give her any sense of decency.

The thought may have scared her once.

It doesn't anymore.

__

He's doing something to her, she's soft around him, if just a bit. It reminds her of herself with makoto and kyouko.

She realizes it's love.

 _Matsuda- matsuda– matsuda—!_ It grates on her ears and she wants to make it shut up. What happened to fire, despair, war? With him, she almost seems like a normal girl, with a childhood friend, a lover.

It's annoying.

__

She smiles sweetly, like sugar melting into poisoned tea, as she put the knife in her trembling hands.

“Kill him. For despair, remember? _Kill him.”_

She sings it so sweetly, says it like she would say paradise, and it's hard to refuse.

So Junko cries as she mutilates mastudas body.

But she's also smiling.

__

She's never the same after.

She curses his name—he must have changed her, if only a bit—she always hesitates just a bit, as if she didn't really know why she was doing this anymore. Her eyes don't shine with purpose, but uncertainty.

If she stops following her, mukuro will too. She'll have nothing left besides a smile and a empty laugh.

She can't have that, now can she?

__

She kisses mukuro like a fraud, the taste of cherry chopstick on cracked one, hands in hair, delicately, soft, like a goddess.

“You are my property, understand?”

She crows, voice sickly sweet as she clutches mukuro's head to her chest.

One sister will always follow her, and the other will always follow her sister.

They were both fools; two sheep being lead to a cliff, one of them falling and the other always, _always_ , jumping down with them.

__

The greatest satisfaction is in sheer destruction.

When the world falls, burning up, crashing just like she did, she giggles. It's light, but harsh, almost like a promise, years of bitterness and hate layered underneath. She smiles, bittersweet, like overly sweetened coffee.

Her love is a cover up, masking poison.

__

Junko wipes their memories.

Makoto and kirigiris memories are the most gone, sweet kisses she's shared between each other gone, as well as any remnant of a blue haired goddess. Kirigiri forgets her life, makoto forgets a bird.

A caged, trapped, bird.

Mukuro takes your place and no one notices.

__

Leon was doomed from the moment she gave out the order— _kill him, mukuro—_ even if he tried to fight back, he was no match. Mukuro was the ultimate soldier, after all, it was no doubt she would win in a struggle, and even if she didn't, it was of no concern to her. Junko fretted—again, she thinks of matsuda, with his heart corrupting hers, making her feel something she killed long ago, _hope_ , she thinks of how since she met him again she hasn't been exactly the same—worrying about her sister in a way that was almost forian. She smiles anyways, despite the churning in her gut, taking Junkos perfectly manicured hand—it used to be a bright red, but now it's dull, and who's not sure she likes it—and promising that mukuro would be okay, the execution would be staged, _are you doubting me junko? You're the one who pulled me into despair in the first place, don't tell me you're getting cold feet?_

And as mukuro lines up for execution, stone faced yet misty eyed, she promised that the knives coming at her were fake, the blood not real, the body was a fraud.

It wasn't.

Mukuro was dead.

__

Junko was unstable.

Laughing, crying, bursts of anger, bursts of glee, shouts of _ah! How despairing! I hate it! I love it!_ Echoing in her sound proof walls as she sobbed, hysterical.

Next time she saw monokuma she kicked him, boot propped up on him as she sung of despair, clutching her sides from either euphoria or pain.

She really hated sayaka.

Spears pierced through her, but all she does is laugh, contorting on the spears as they puncture through her body, her breath wheezing out before stopping entirely.

“How disappointing.”

Somewhere, the singer frowned.

__

When she is revealed in a puff of smoke, jaws drop.

She soaks in it, the feeling of being known, of surprising them, showing them all. The looks on makoto and kirigiris faces is shocked.

 _No one will forget me now,_ she thinks, _I'm irreplaceable._

For sayaka maizono, it was never just about despair, but a dream, to be known, heard, shouts and cries in a empty room, pleas finally being answered.

To be an idol, with a smile on her face, a place in everyone's minds, someone who couldn't just be tossed away, someone who was _important_.

She would do anything for her dream.

Sayaka maizono was the death of all good things.

And sometimes she loved it.

She giggled as the world was engulfed in flames.

**Author's Note:**

> Goddamn this was wild to write. There needs to be more mastermind sayaka tbh bc like just think of the betrayal and like her motives and stuff like,, I love mastermind aus bc you can really look @ why the character would fall into despair and like you could do one for each character and it still not be repetitive. There needs to be more mastermind au stories bc boi


End file.
